


Tug of the Collar

by comeonbeetches



Category: South Park
Genre: Blow Jobs, Confessional Sex, M/M, PWP, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:45:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeonbeetches/pseuds/comeonbeetches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when you're supposed to go undercover as a priest but hate God? You do it anyway, but maybe your co-worker can make it a little more- or a lot less- bearable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tug of the Collar

He was never going to let this go.

"Seriously, in all your time going undercover, you never thought you'd have to be a priest?" he laughed.

"Shut up, Gregory." I grumbled, buttoning up the clergy shirt and fastening the white collar.

"Are you sure you'll be fine in a church? You won't mess up and start cussing out the people in the pews?"

I narrowed my eyes in annoyance, then turned to face him in a huff. "Why are you here?" I asked, folding my arms.

"So I don't miss this?" he cried, leaping to his feet to stand beside me at the mirror. "Your hair is brushed, you smell clean, and you're dressed up as a servant of God – whom you despise with every inch of your being!" With that he began to laugh once more.

When this is over, I'm going to kill him. For now, I simply pushed him over. He fell on the bed and pouted. Child.

"Oh, come now. Don't be like that," he said.

"You're an ass," I told him, closing the door behind me.

* * *

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

I let out an inaudible sigh. I'd heard that phrase over fifty or sixty times. Thousands of petty "sins" had been confessed to me all day. I was getting sick of this shit.

"Confess, my child." I said, groaning inwardly. If I had to go through one more of these... But soon she was done, having only confessing to yelling at a driver who cut her off. I snorted derisively at that, as soon as she was gone. That was something I did on a daily basis.

Suddenly, I heard quick, frantic footsteps coming towards the booth. Last time I checked there had been no one in the hall. Ugh, another one? The person opened the door hastily and asked breathily, "Father? I need to confess, are you here?"

I nearly choked on my spit. That voice... But, no. Why here?

"Ye-" I started, faltering and changing my voice to disguise myself. "Yes, my child. Confess and He shall forgive you." I physically cringed at the words, they sickened me.

I heard Gregory take in a deep breath.

"Father, I've been having unclean thoughts." I swallowed hard and clasped my hands together to keep from fidgeting. "Again." My mind blanked. Oh God, I hoped he wouldn't go into detail. Who was he talking about?

"About a friend. A, well, a male friend." I was going to have a heart attack.

"I've thought of him late at night, touching me in places no one else has touched me. Caressing my body and taking me wholly and roughly." Was he ever going to mention a name? "And I can't stop thinking about it. Won't stop. Father, I can't be helped."

The sound of a zipper cut through my frantic thoughts. I wanted to scream, cry, toss myself into a ravine. I'm going to go crazy over this.

"Oh...Christophe," I paused in my panic attack. No, he didn't say my name- he couldn't have. But then he said it again. And again. Like a prayer, my name flew through his lips, an invocation so crazing I couldn't help myself.

I jolted from my side of the confession booth, opened the door and stumbled out into the harsh daylight. Then I ripped open the door to Gregory's flushed face and heavy breathing. He lifted his eyes to mine and mouthed one word.

"Fuck..."

I rushed forward pressing him up against the back wall of the box. I heard his breath hitch before I dug my fingers into the back of his head and pull him to my lips. He gasped against them, angling his head to press his lips more firmly on my own.

"You have no idea..." he whispered. I hummed faintly and traveled down his jaw line, over the spot where I could feel how fast his heart was beating.

"God, how long I wanted you..." he finished, lacing his fingers around my neck.

He was losing it quickly, so I had to work fast. I removed one of my hands from his hair and toyed coyly with his waistband. His zipper was already undone, and I could feel his wrist moving rhythmically with his breath.

I dipped my hand in and covered his hand with my own, entwining our fingers as he stroked himself. He moaned when he felt my fingers, throwing his head back and allowing me to access more of his slender neck. My tongue dragged slowly, pausing to circle at random points along the skin, each time earning a new noise from Gregory.

He was moving our hands faster over his cock, grinding his hips roughly into his palm and my fingers. Then he moved our hands back around my neck.

I pulled back and looked at him, the picture of surprise. He tapped his finger on the white collar about my throat.

"I want to give something to you, Christophe." He smiled, tugging it away and dropping it to the ground.

He turned the both of us around and sat me down, before going to his knees and unzipping my dress pants. He pulled them away from my body, where they rested at my ankles, and then he moved on to my boxers.

Before I could so much as say, "Holy fucking Christ" Gregory was licking tentatively around the head of my dick. Now it was my turn to throw my head back and moan.

His tongue slid from the base of my cock to the tip, and then he took the whole damned thing in his mouth. I will never, ever complain about that mouth again. The way it felt on me, how fucking great it was when he flicked his tongue lightly over my dick.

I tried to restrain myself from pushing further past his lips.

He swirled his tongue around the head, and then the bastard hollowed his cheeks and started to hum. It started with a tingle in my stomach, and soon I was crying out.

Calling Gregory's name over and over, apologizing for God knows what, and I'm coming. Fuck it all, I'm coming in a confessions box dressed like a priest with a hot blond on my hips. He stands up, leans forward and leans in close to my ear.

"Get dressed, Christophe. I think your mission is over now. Your cover's been blown."

And with a small chuckle and a zip of his pants, he exited the booth, walking slowly out of the church.


End file.
